I thought “Sir” was the worst insult a stranger could unintentionally inflict on me, but recently I discovered “Sir” has equals.
My friend H and I are two old unreformed hippies who have failed to adapt with the changing styles of the times. We don’t wear makeup. Our hair is undyed and thus gray. We admire each other’s retro taste in clothing: I love her penchant for “granny” dresses. She professes envy for my neo-bellbottoms. The other day we met for lunch in all our bedraggled glory.
As we left the restaurant, a man approached us and asked, “Are you two sisters?”
H and I looked at each other and giggled, delighted that he thought we looked alike. “Why, yes,” I said.
“I knew it,” said the stranger. “My sister took vows too.”